


Merlin the Companion

by EVBriar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EVBriar/pseuds/EVBriar
Summary: [Arthur/Merlin M/M Romance]Concubine!Merlin & Owner!ArthurKinkmeme Fill of:Camelot has a tradition upon which a select group of men and women live in pampered slavery and are trained as concubines. Highly skilled in etiquette, they are well-educated - including in the art of seduction. When their training is complete the favoured Lords and Ladies of the land compete for, bid on, or are awarded a concubine. Those who aren't picked become high class whores to service the Knights and the like. Merlin enters into training as a reward for saving Prince Arthur's life - but still has to protect the Prince, and can't be touched by anyone except his would-be owner.[Slow burn series. Rated M for future erotica.]March 9 2017 update: Chapter 2 posted!





	1. A Peculiar Reward and the Peculiar Lady Ife

**Author's Note:**

> This is a chapter series, and erotica will take place later on. ♡

"You saved my son," the King had said. Merlin could still feel the crowd's eyes on him hours later. "You will be rewarded." Uther Pendragon's had grasped a slender shoulder and he looked upon the crowd, proudly exclaiming: "You shall be taken under Lady Ife's teaching." The feast attenders had then applauded. Merlin was dumbfounded. Who was Lady Ife? he wondered. He would soon find out.

He had been able to feast at a table far from the King and the Prince. Merlin had never had such food: tender ribs dripping with fat; pies of beef and tender apples; sweet, sticky breads flavored with lemon, orange, and honey, and other savory ones with onions and garlic; candied almonds; blackberry and sweet red wines. He ate his fill and drank until his head swam, all the while wondering: Who was Lady Ife, and why was it such an honor to be taught by her? He dared not ask those he sat with; they seemed to know little more than he, all of them high servants of Uther. When he would look up at the Prince, he would see Arthur staring at him - not with disdain, as he had before, but almost with nervousness. Blue eyes would dart away when their gazes met, yet they would always come back before Merlin glanced up again. This made him wonder all the more: Who was Lady Ife, and should he be afraid of her, as Arthur seemed to now be of him? It brought him no comfort; before he would've overjoyed seeing Arthur nervous, but now it made Merlin nervous, too.

The feast ended and Merlin only dared stand when the servants at his table stood, before afraid that he'd offend the King if he excused himself too soon. Sleepily he dragged his feet all the way to Gaius's door, dreaming already of the bed he had inside. When he slipped in, Gaius looked up from his book with a brow raised.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Merlin said, again dumbfounded.

Gaius stood up from his bench and lifted a bag. Merlin's bag - the one that had brought his things here. It was again full of them. "You were awarded a new position, Merlin," Gaius explained, picking up quickly on his confusion. "You are to be taught by Lady Ife, and now you have a bed under her roof."

The color that the wine had left in his face drained. "Who is Lady Ife?" he asked as Gaius handed over the bag and a hesitant hand took it.

"A very respected woman," Gaius explained. "Very educated, and experienced in all aspects of life. I would dare not challenge her to a game of wit, Merlin." That was a warning. "She teaches, now - all she knows. I packed all your things - put the book I gave you in there, too. Keep it hidden."

Yet he had not told him what she knew. "What will I learn?"

"Mathematics, literature, history. I hear she rivals all the cooks in the kingdom, too. And there are other things she will teach you, in time, I'm sure."

There was something Gaius wasn't telling him, but he gave him no time to ask as an elderly hand led him out the door. "She lives just outside the castle, inside the walls. A building of marble with a violet roof. No doubt you've seen it?"

"Yes, but-" What else will she teach me?

Gaius interrupted, "Find it, and tell her who you are. She'll have heard of you by now. I hear her beds are covered with furs and wool - far better than the straw you've been sleeping on here. Please, Merlin, you don't want to keep her waiting. It is a great honor."

Merlin wanted nothing more than to sleep, whether on wool or hay. He didn't want to walk any more, or meet anyone else, or do anything at all. He wanted to sleep off the wine until noon. He was given no such luxury, so he shouldered his bag and began to drag his feet once more. He walked over the wooden floors outside Gaius's home, along the tiles of the hallways, across the stone of the road. The night air seemed to sober him up some, and he took his share of deep breaths. When Merlin looked up from the path, he saw a grand building of off-white marble, with a dark violet clay roof that seemed to blend with the sky. Upon the walls were carvings of women and men alike dancing gracefully with flowers all around, and plants of all colours rimmed the ground around Merlin's feet. He had never seen it so close before. It was beautiful.

The wooden door opened and Merlin looked, frightening a young girl whose hair was the color of fire and had freckles covering a beautiful face. She flinched with a bucket in her hands, but luckily it was empty.

"Sorry," Merlin greeted immediately, lest she think him some kind of deviant. "I'm here to see… Lady Ife?"

A freckled hand came to a freckled chest to calm her pounding heart, no doubt. "Oh," she huffed sweetly, continuing on to reveal a thick accent of some eastern land. "What is your business with the Lady?"

"I'm…," he started, not quite sure how to finish, "…well, King Uther granted me her patronage tonight - at the feast."

"Ooh." Her smile was bright and contagious. "You must be Merlin." She glanced down at the bucket in her arms. "I'm to get water from the well. Would you walk with me? I must introduce you to the Lady but she needs her water first."

He shifted the bag on his shoulder. "Alright," he nodded, and she led the way. The dress she wore was green and gold, and so clean it looked like she'd just put it on. It clung to her so much so that Merlin's eyes were back on the ground, feeling otherwise shameful if he dared watch her walk. "Who," he began to ask, "exactly, is Lady Ife?"

She looked back with her large eyes even larger with shock. "A creature of Camelot who's never heard of the Good Lady?"

Merlin doubted 'creature' was an insult, so he smiled. "No. I've only just got here. Lived in a small village… no Ladies or Lords around."

"She's the most beautiful lass - oh, don't tell her I called her a lass, please - and she knows everything about everything. She's generous and sweet, and she can talk a merchant into buying his own goods. She treats us like family, she does." The girl rambled on as she lowered the bucket into the marbled well (it, too, had a violet roof) and pulled up clear water.

"'Us'?"

"All of us who learn from her," explained the girl. "Most of us are sent to her from Madames. Once in a great while she'll pick someone herself. Sometimes a King or someone of the like will send someone her way," she eyed Merlin now as she walked beside him, "but she's still got to approve of you."

Merlin was now as worried as ever: Madames, approval? What would happen to him if he wasn't up to Lady Ife's standards?

"I'm Moira, if it pleases you," the red-haired girl gave a name, and so Merlin answered with his own.

He followed her back to the marble building and entered behind her. It was even more beautiful on the inside: marble walls dotted with paintings and wooden floors without marks; potted plants on every shelf and in every corner; flowing silk curtains; bookshelves full with pristine book spines; and in the heart of it all was a grand fireplace, with pillows and furs all around (and three people similarly dressed to Moira warming themselves silently).

"This way," Moira urged him along and he pulled his eyes away to follow her again. They walked down a hallway with evenly spaced single doors, the very end having double made of some dark wood that made the marble look all the more bright. Moira knocked softly, received some noise Merlin could not make out, then opened it. "Good Lady," she greeted. "Merlin has arrived, and I've gotten your water."

"Thank you, child. Send him in." The voice was high and sweet, thick with an accent Merlin had never heard before. A freckled hand led him by the back into the room, and then the door was closed.

This room was as beautiful as the rest of the building but felt far cozier. A fire burned dimly and made everything a flickering dark orange - the canopied bed, the furs all over the floor and walls, the table set with tea and more candles than Merlin had fingers. At the hearth stood a tall woman with a yellow silk scarf around her head (it matched her flowing dress, as if cut from the same cloth) and skin as dark as night. He stared.

"Hello Merlin," she greeted without taking her gaze away from the fire.

Nervously he adjusted the knapsack on his shoulder. "Lady Ife?"

"So I stand," she confirmed eloquently. "Come here, let me look at you." Finally she turned her head to him, revealing round eyes and full, red-painted lips. She offered a hand to him, but he did not know what to do with it. She beckoned, so Merlin came closer. She grasped his wrist with a feather-light touch and did not look him over, as he expected, but stared instead at his eyes. He avoided her gaze for as long as he could but when his gaze finally met hers, he stared, too.

Finally she said, "You'll do. You are a beautiful being, Merlin," and he knew she meant deeper than his skin.


	2. The Cleansing and a Teasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the lack of updates on this! ♡

Merlin awoke to a headache and a start. Rough hands had gripped his shoulders and shook him out of his dreams (of Arthur's eyes burning a fire on his cheeks and the feast never ending, like a curse). He was glad of his reality for only a moment. Those hands belonged to a wrinkled woman with wispy grey hair, her dark stare mean.

"You bathe," she said. He couldn't quite tell if she'd said bath or bathe, but he was distracted by the younger girl in the doorway - a spitting image, though at least two generations younger. Suddenly Merlin was nervous. How long had they watched him sleep? "You," she repeated, "you bathe."

Rubbing at his eye, he answered, "I s'pose I could do with one. I'll-"

"Now," the old lady said. "Now bathe." It was then that Merlin realized this woman would have some part in it. Again he looked at the young girl in the doorway and she beckoned him quickly and nervously, as if it say 'obey'.

"Alright," he agreed, pulling off the warm furs he'd slept under and awkwardly sitting up.

The woman pushed him in a direction that allowed no room for opposition. She led him to a small bath room, the wooden tub having already been filled with water and scented oils. From the steam, he could tell even from a distance that it was too hot. Merlin's lips had parted to protest getting in just yet but suddenly she was pulling his clothes off. His arms raised in defense.

"What are y--," he started.

The girl interrupted, "Come," in a sweet voice, tapping on the edge of the tub with pleading eyes.

By the time he was undressed, Merlin was trembling nervously all over. Hands came to cover himself but neither lady seemed particularly shy about it. He stepped into the bath when he was given a little push, glad at least to be covered up by the water - and just as he suspected, it was so hot he felt like he was cooking. He imagined this woman a witch who wanted to eat him, and he'd walked right into her cauldron like a fool - but that silly thought lasted only a moment until they started washing him.

The rough hands of the old woman held him still while the girl's scrubbed hard at his skin. He was _held_ and _scrubbed_ even until he squirmed and tears welled up in his eyes. Merlin's body soon became red and inflamed, and the scents of the oils burned his nose. Despite the bare torture of it, they took careful care with his hair; the black mess was washed very gently and for a very long time. He couldn't tell the moisture from his face from tears or sweat or steam, but it was wet all the same. A lifetime passed of this, and finally the girl had gotten to her feet, held a towel out, and repeated, "Come."

Shaking now from pain instead of nervousness, Merlin rose from the now luke-warm bath and took the towel, draping it over his shoulders like a blanket. He sniffled. The woman was pushing him back to his bedroom and he dreaded what else she had in store, but she merely pointed to some clothes laid out on the bed and then left. The girl closed the door behind her with a sympathetic smile.

For a long time he sat on the edge of his bed. He gazed at the tunic, trousers, belt and shoes that had been lain out for him. He'd never seen them before. Pruned fingers skimmed along the fabric to find that it was softer even than the furs he'd slept under, and the leather shoes looked like they'd never been worn before. Merlin had never had such attire.

A soft knock came at his door. He sniffled again, then said, "Come in."

Moira peeked her beautiful, freckled face in, her red hair reaching down even past her waist today. "Hello, Merlin."

"Hello, Moira."

"Sorry to interrupt, I thought you'd be dressed already. I'll leave you be."

"You can come in," he assured. He was covered by the damp cloth around his body and didn't have much shame left right now, anyway. She nodded and closed the door behind her, coming to look over his new outfit at his side.

"It matches your eyes," she smiled. His was blue. Hers was green -- and matched, too. "The cleanse is hard," she said softly then, and he averted her sympathetic gaze.

"The cleanse?" It was almost an unneeded question.

"They're only so thorough because it is like you are being birthed anew. I'd never been given a bath before… as I'm sure neither have you, save for when you were a small boy. But when you dry you'll feel great." He didn't doubt it. Already his hair felt lighter than it'd ever been, like an entire lifetime had been washed out of it. "You'll look grand in these," she muttered, leaning close to the tunic and raising its sleeve to marvel at it.

"They seem expensive," Merlin started, tone speaking volumes.

"Lady Ife only gives us the best," Moira assured. "It's a gift. An investment, even." She rose and smiled at him, ran pale fingers through his damp hair, and then went to the door. "I'll leave you to it. Find me after you put that on, I'd love to see you."

He returned a shy, boyish smile and watched her leave. Again he was alone, but he felt much better -- even daring to stand and let his towel fall to the floor, attention turning on his new attire.

* * *

"The written word has much power," Lady Ife said. There was perhaps fifteen of them, Merlin included, all at their own tables with parchment and quills laid out in front of them. "Writing letters or notes is not only about the words you choose to use. It is, too, about the fluidity and grace of the hand that writes them." She walked around the room in her flowing red dress and those red painted lips and would look at each of them individually and offer them their own smile, in her strange and enchanting way. "If you got a letter in a rushed and messy hand, would you not read it the same way? If you just as well received a letter in a smooth and careful hand, would you not be more impressed with it? We must write as we speak: gracefully, carefully, and confidently."

Merlin had never thought he'd be learning to write, of all things, from Lady Ife. Yet he spent hours in that room, practicing his hand on foot after foot of parchment until his fingers ached. On the first few inches was an awkward scribble, something mimicking 'graceful' but still in his natural hand -- and as the scroll progressed, his words became smoother and softer. He learned how to use emphasis with something as little as pressure - added or taken away - and he almost felt like a little boy when Lady Ife smiled at his work. She dismissed them after everyone confirmed their cramping hands, and then Merlin was let out onto the grounds again. "To do what?" he had asked. "Whatever you'd like," Lady Ife had answered.

He saw everything in slightly changed eyes; never had he felt so light, like the bath had stripped all sour memories from him, and his new clothes had instilled him with some personal strength. At the least, they were comfortable, like wearing air. Gold and silver trimmed the light blue fabric, and his shoes were so perfectly-fitting he wondered if they'd had his feet measured, somehow. At first he'd been shy, looking at himself in the mirror and seeing his collarbones framed (he was too skinny, he thought), but then Moira had gushed over him and he had barely stopped blushing since.

He'd thought to visit Gaius, but he strayed the moment he heard metal clanging in the yard. Merlin followed it and found the Prince training the recruits under the hot sun. He grinned… a plan forming. Merlin took a seat in the grass a ways away, looking onto the action.

"You have a shield!" scolded Arthur. "Use it!" The blond Prince struck at the raised metal and the recruit staggered. Merlin's eyes flashed and the recruit was pushed forward onto his trainer, the two of them falling to the ground. Both were caught off guard but Merlin only smiled at Arthur's dumbfoundedness, limbs straightening to push each other away since the fight was still on. By luck the recruit got to his feet first and used the opportunity to raise his sword in arrogance (or so Merlin thought), Arthur's own shield raised in defense and the faintest look of bracing on his face. In a moment of overwhelming protection, Merlin's eyes flashed again, and the recruit dropped his sword with a scream.

"Why do you retreat?" yelled Arthur, both disappointed in the recruit and embarrassed at his own folly (though that was Merlin's doing).

"It burned, Sire!" The recruit shook his hand. It'd been nothing terrible; Merlin had only heated the hilt a little…

"What are you on about?" Arthur was getting to his feet now, panting and sweating. Merlin stared for a moment, but only a moment, and then averted his eyes to the recruit.

"The sword, Sire! It burned my hand!" He showed his palm, but Arthur scoffed - obviously seeing nothing of importance.

"If you're all done playing games," Arthur shouted, scolding the entire group now, "you can run your drills together until the sun goes down." There was a murmur of groans, mostly directed at that recruit Merlin had made a poor fool of, and Arthur parted from them. As he began propping his sword and shield against the weapon rack, he caught sight of Merlin in the grass - knees hugged to himself and a grin on his face - and those princely cheeks went far redder. "This is no show," Arthur exclaimed.

"I never said it was."

Arthur began peeling off his gauntlets, wiping damp hands on a cloth hanging from the rack. Still, Merlin watched.

"Haven't you got work to do?"

"I've done it already."

"Well," he said, while dabbing at his face, "haven't you got anywhere else to be?"

"Are you sending me off, Prince Arthur?" Merlin mused, smiling a little as he rose to his feet and came closer to bow lowly to him. "I will do as it pleases you, Prince Arthur. Anything the Prince desires."

When he stood up straight again, he saw those eyes on his collarbones, and then they darted away. " _Good_ ," Arthur said in a tone that betrayed the word. Merlin turned to part but Arthur called out. "And…," he continued softly, like he was shy (and it was strange to see Arthur shy), clearing his throat - "--don't talk to me like… _that_. I… don't like it."

That tone, too, betrayed his words. Merlin's own cheeks became redder with every step to visit Gaius.


End file.
